Ronald Weasley
by GrEeN-eYeS119
Summary: It has been a year since the attack on Hogwarts. Since Dumbledore was found dead by the foot of the tower. Ron thinks about how the war has changed everybody and the events leading up to it.


Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter …..dur.

A/N- I dunno, a blerb about Ron and the war.

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"It has been a year since the attack on Hogwarts. Since Dumbledore was found dead by the foot of the tower. Since Harry, Hermione and I started our painful search for Voldemort's horcruxes.

Nothing is the same as it used to be, friendships are weakening, souls are wilting. But I'm still Ron, still clueless ol' reliable Ronald Weasel.

It's funny when I think about it. How people can just glance over you and not see a change. To them I'm always the boy who sucked at potions and quiddich. But they don't really know me, not like I know myself. I put on an act… I guess. It's better to act than to show who you actually are, I act so my friend can always have someone they know. Someone who won't surprise them, and they can talk too.

I'm not making this about me, don't think I am. It's about everyone. I don't like to make things serious or hard to hear, so I just glaze over the important stuff, stick to the basics I suppose. It's hard to see the people you love as a shell of what they once were. Harry is this determined fighting machine I don't think he even knows how thin he is. He's not right, I can tell when you look into his eyes there's no Harry. Just this raw soul that's too old for his years, he's not 18 he's 40 and battleworn.

And Hermione, she's so strong. God I love that girl, though she'll never know it. She is so determined to make everything work, she needs everything to work that's just how she is. She leaves her hair dirty and unbrushed all day just so she can help Lupin make plans for battle formations, or help Mom with the cooking. Anything to keep her going, I think she's afraid of stopping like she thinks she's stumble and fall apart or something.

I'm different too, though I can't say how. It's just the usual, seeing too many deaths too much torture to much pain. I'm not a boy anymore I could never be now, I've seen to much. But I stand firm not letting my face show I'm tired or my body show I'm weak, I must be the stupidest guy in the wizarding world. I just gotta be there, for anyone who needs me even if it's just a shoulder to cry on I'll be there.

All through school nobody suspected that I might be more than a funloving easily irritable guy. I'm really not that dumb you know. I could do something if I wanted to, but why? What's the point of being smart now? It's not like it helped Sirius or Dumbledore, so why should I bother. Just fight, fight, fight that's all that matters now, no one needs a brain, Just a ready hand.

It's close I can feel it in my bones. Harry knows it, he can feel it too you can see it in the way he holds himself, all stiff and rigged, ready to attack. Everyone's fidgety like a bunch of cats before a storm. It's humorous actually, Tonks keeps on dropping things and Fred and George wont stop making bad jokes even though George's arm is broken. But apparently a broken arm can be funny when your about to go into battle.

Tipical, it's rainy. Does it always rain when wars take place? Maybe it just seems like it, shoot it's always been rainy when I had to fight.

Ginny's being forced to stay behind, you should have seen the fight she put up with Mom. I dunno why she want's to come so badly, she'll just get hurt, she always does.

Harry's putting on his "strong" face again, it's all calm and eerie. He uses it whenever something bad is about to happen, which is quite often. Hermione is trying not to act nervous. I know she doesn't want to do this, she hates fighting, think's it's a waist of time. But even Hermione can't say that killing Voldemort is a waist of time.

Oh look Harry's opened the door I guess it's time to go be Ronald. I want to look around to see everyone around me, to check and see if their all right but I stop myself. If I turn it will hint to people that I'm not sure we'll win.

As I stand by the open door I caught a fleeting glimpse into my fifth year. Soaring clumsily around the goal posts and dropping the quaffle. A slytherin flies towards me with mocking expression and throws the ball. I spectacularly kick the magic ball in the air and club it with my broomstick.

I can hear the cheering behind me as I walk out into the rain. Popping a smirk worthy of Draco Malfoy. I think to myself

"Weasley, you are the king."


End file.
